


revelation.

by emiliathegreat



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, matt gets scared, reader tries to help, there are some feelings of betrayal in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 16:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16896405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emiliathegreat/pseuds/emiliathegreat
Summary: What would Matt keep in a trunk in the bottom of his closet? Could it be pushed out of the way in order to be forgotten, such as old pictures of a simpler time? Could it be there because it contained something necessary in an unexpected scenario, like an emergency-preparedness kit of some sort? Or could it be there simply because it was a place where it was the least likely to be tripped over?orthe reader stumbles upon the suit in matt's apartment and angst and fluff ensues





	1. Chapter 1

You had made the decision to clean your boyfriend’s apartment. 

To get it straight: Matt was a very organized man. He  _ had _ to be. So much of his ability to function in his own home was completely dependent on him having an idea on where everything was in his apartment due to his lack of sight. However, that didn’t mean that things were necessarily  _ clean _ . There was a couple of years worth of accumulated dust lining shelves and doorways, and the mostly hardwood floors of the apartment hadn’t been mopped in god-knows-how-long. 

So, when Matt went to work the morning after you spent the night , you set yourself to the task of cleaning his place as a surprise. You were sure that he would be happy to come home to an apartment that wouldn’t reek of must, and it was that hope that kept you scrubbing and dusting despite the tense ache that had began to grow in the muscles of your shoulders and back.

You were in his room with a broom, sweeping up the floor and whatever kind of dirt had accrued there. For some reason, there was more random debris around his closet than in any other place in the room, so you approached the door and braced yourself to the mess that you thought you would find inside. However, when you opened it, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it was. 

His clothes were neatly spaced along the rack, organized by braille tags that he could read with a quick pass of his fingertips. There was an old-looking green trunk that was sitting on the closet floor, and by the space around it, you figured that it was likely that the trunk contributed to the odd trail of grime. 

After cleaning up the mess, you found yourself pausing for a moment. What would Matt keep in a trunk in the bottom of his closet? Could it be pushed out of the way in order to be forgotten, such as old pictures of a simpler time? Could it be there because it contained something necessary in an unexpected scenario, like an emergency-preparedness kit of some sort? Or could it be there simply because it was a place where it was the least likely to be tripped over?

You shook your head, picking up your broom and dustpan and leaving the room. Whatever Matt had in that chest was his, and you knew that you needed to respect his privacy. Reluctantly, you continued to finish the job that you started. 

~

You had mopped floors, scrubbed away grime, and had wiped down and dusted any surface that you could get your hands on before you finally felt content with your mission. The sense of satisfaction that you felt far outweighed the soreness in your body and the dull ache from the few bruises you had acquired along the way. However, there was still an uneasy feeling underlying all of that, and no matter how frustrated you were with it, there was no way it was going to go away anytime soon. 

That’s how you found yourself back in front of Matt’s open closet, sitting cross-legged on the floor and staring at the old trunk. There was something about it that you just couldn’t shake. Why was it hidden there? Very few things in Matt’s apartment were stashed away like the trunk was, for easy accessibility, he had explained to you once. So was he hiding it from himself? Or was he hiding it from you?

The debris you had found around it meant that it had been opened frequently, probably even recently, and the realization had your mouth turning down into a frown. He  _ had _ been acting kind of strange recently - cancelling plans on you at the last minute and not being available until very very late at night. You had figured that it was because of the unpredictable nature of his law firm and the fact that he would want some time alone to drink a beer and decompress, but the more that you thought about it, the more you questioned the contents of the trunk in regards to his behavior. 

With your thoughts swirling in an ominous cycle, there was only one thing that you could do in order to calm them, and that was open the trunk. Your hands were shaking in both anticipation and fear as you unclasped both of the latches, and then you pushed the top open quickly (better to get it over with - like ripping off a band-aid, right?).

Inside was a suit. It was black and red and looked to be made of some type of leather. However, when you picked it up and felt the material, it felt nothing like leather. It was lighter, but somehow more sturdy and you were sure that you had never touched anything like it. Your brow furrowed as you tried to imagine why Matt would need such a suit and why he would feel such a need to hide it from you.

And then you saw the helmet. It was heavy duty and the same color of red as the suit. When you picked it up curiously, you turned it over in your hands until you saw the set in red eyes that were bright and glassy and a small pair of horns on the other side. 

That’s what confirmed everything for you. The late nights out, the random injuries, the spontaneous cancellations of plans. You quickly threw the helmet back in the trunk with a sharp intake of breath and stared at it wide-eyed. Feeling your eyes well up with tears, you couldn’t believe what you had discovered. 

Matt was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

 

~

 

You felt like you were going out of your mind.

After managing to completely finish the job that you had set out to do, you carried the (surprisingly heavy) trunk to the coffee table, set it down with a dull  _ thud _ , and began to think of what you were going to say. After all, all you had to do now was wait.

_ “What the hell were you thinking?”  _ No, too motherly.

_ “When were you planning on telling me? _ ” No, too forward.

_ “Who are you, really?”  _

The last one sent a pang of sadness through your chest. Before this, you had always considered the relationship between yourself and Matt to be very open - you hated keeping things from him and assumed that he felt the same way. But, if he had been hiding something as big as this from you - for God knows how long - what other skeletons did he have in his closet?

You put your head in your hands, resting your elbows on your knees as you breathed deeply in an attempt to calm yourself. 

You were unsure how much time had passed before you heard his key in the door, and you found yourself on your feet, heart pounding in your chest. 

“Hey, babe.” He said with a smile, closing the door behind himself.

“ _ How long have you been the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? _ ” You blurted out immediately.

Matt froze in the middle of taking off his jacket, his brow furrowing, and in the silence that followed, the only thing that you could hear was the anxious rushing of blood in your ears. After a tense moment, Matt finished taking off his jacket and placed his cane by the door, loosening his tie as he walked farther into his apartment. 

He moved to the seat across from the couch as though he could feel your heavy gaze on him, like he was cautious of the fact he could scare you away at any moment, and it wasn’t until he was seated that you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He loosened his tie and took off his glasses, placing them on the table next to the trunk. “I guess it’s a little too late to try to convince you that it’s for cosplaying?” He asked in an obvious attempt in order to ease the tension in the room, but you were still on edge as you sat down. 

“ _ How long, _ Matt?” You asked again, and his expression softened. “And  _ how _ ? You’re blind, for god’s sake!”

To your surprise, Matt cracked a small smile, and you bristled at how casual he was taking this while you were nearly in tears. “That’s a long story, Y/N.” He sighed.

“Then you’d better get talking.”

And although hesitant, he did. He started at the beginning - with the accident that took away his sight but left the rest of his senses at superhuman levels. He explained how he could form an image in his mind thanks to sounds and smells around him with ease, and also how he was able to hear people’s heartbeats from blocks away, and even things like broken bones and rushing blood if he focused hard enough. It was because of the way that he was able to process his sensory information impossibly fast and rigorous physical training that he was able to fight as The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, which he had started to do in college, long before he met you.

He was obviously relieved to get all of the information off of his chest, but you were left reeling with all of the new information. 

Matt -  _ your _ mild-mannered, quiet Matt who had always been the perfect gentleman - was the vigilante that prowled the streets at night, beating criminals to a pulp and protecting the people of Hell’s Kitchen. 

After he was done baring his soul to you, a tense silence settled in the room. “Please tell me what you’re thinking, Y/N. I feel like I’m going crazy here.” He said with a nervous laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“ _ You’re _ going crazy?” You huffed in disbelief, standing and running your hands through your hair as you continued to attempt to process everything that had been laid out for you. “It’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore.” You swallowed dryly and stood, making your way into the kitchen. 

You filled a glass with water from the tap, drinking it down and then setting it aside so that you can gather your thoughts. It was only a moment, however, before Matt’s strong hands were turning you until the edge of the counter was pressing against your lower back and you were facing him. You put your hands on his chest, and his larger ones came up to cover them.

“Y/N, please, look at me.” He said softly. Of course he could tell that you were trying to focus on anything but him in order to keep from crying - he had crazy super-senses. Reluctantly, you looked up into his brown eyes that were focused somewhere near your chin. “I’m the same me that I’ve always been.” He told you, and gently wiped tears that had managed to fall away from your cheeks. “I kept you in the dark to keep you safe, sweetheart. I’ve made enemies out there as the Devil, if you were to get hurt because of me, I don’t know how I would be able to forgive myself.”

You sniffled. “You’re looking out for me, but who does that leave to look out for you?” You asked, and the corner of Matt’s mouth turned down in a frown. 

“I don’t need anybody, babe. That way, it’s harder for people who want to get to me to get to them.” 

His sentiment and intention was clear, but it still made you upset. What if something were to happen to him? If he were in a pinch that he couldn’t get out of? Your skin crawled thinking about all the nights that he was in danger, all of the nights that he could’ve  _ died _ and left you with nothing but a late-night visit from a police officer to tell you that he was found dead in an alley somewhere, and the fact that it was something that could still happen made you want to throw up.

You pressed forward to hug him around the middle and bury your head into his chest. “I love you so much.” You sobbed into his shirt, and he stroked your hair soothingly. 

“I love you too, baby.” He said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he held you out at arm’s length. “And thank you for cleaning my place up. I’m sure it looks amazing.” He cracked a small joke, and you let out a watery laugh as he disappeared into his bedroom to change out of his work clothes. 

Although you were feeling the satisfaction of getting your questions answered, you still felt a sad feeling in the pit of your stomach when your gaze landed on the old green trunk. There had to be something that you could do, right? To be Matt’s safety net - someone who would have his back out in the violent streets of Hell’s Kitchen at night. You had made up your mind quicker than you thought you would.

If Matt thought that he was going to be alone out there, he was dead wrong. You were going to do whatever you could to help him.

And there was nothing that would change your mind. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there's an oc villan and his guys are pretty nasty to the reader. please be careful if this is a trigger!

Trying to keep up with Daredevil in secret was no easy task.

Matt was no help whatsoever, as he kept to himself a lot more since you found out about his vigilantism, but you managed to do some useful digging yourself thanks to some acquaintances who worked in local journalism. It was because of this that you were able to find information on a drug cartel led by a man that they called “Sabretooth” that had been involved in a few murders that had taken place around the area. 

It’s because of this that you found yourself at the wharf near midnight. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself as a sudden gust of wind caused you to shiver. Focusing on making your footfalls as gentle as possible, you crept between the storage containers that were scattered around the shipyard, searching for any sign of activity in the otherwise abandoned place. 

You rounded a corner to see the group but immediately dashed back to cover before they could see you. They were standing around in a circle, the gathering illuminated by the headlights of two trucks. [more?]Your hands were shaky as you pulled out your phone, starting to dial the 

police department. Maybe if the police arrived before Matt did, they would be able to do their job before the vigilante would ever have to intervene.

However, you were only able to dial the first few numbers before you felt a blunt object press harshly into the small of your back and heard the sharp cocking of a gun.

You froze, immediately feeling sick to your stomach. “Drop the phone, darling.” A distinctly male voice said from behind you, and you cringed at the pet-name. The sound made your skin crawl, a harsh voice that was lowered to a gravelly purr, one that sounded unnatural and forced. You let your phone slip through your fingers, landing on the concrete ground with a betraying  _ clack _ of plastic. 

He let out a pleased huff of breath before he twisted your left arm behind your back and jabbed the barrel of the gun into your lower spine, causing you to wince and move forward out of the cover of the crate you were hiding behind. “I found a hero.” He called, which got the attention of the others. You received sneers and a few chuckles as you were forced forward until you were right next to the group. 

One man stepped forward, and you recognized him from the mugshots that they had been flashing over the news in the last few weeks:  _ Sabretooth _ . He was tall and gaunt, looming over you with long hair that was tied back and a tattoo of a black ‘x’ on one cheekbone. “You thought you were gonna cry wolf, weren’t you, sugar?” He grinned, revealing that all four of his canines were plated gold. You shuddered. “Too bad we can’t leave you alive. You’re such a pretty little thing.” He crooned. 

Feeling disgust rise like bile in your throat, you gave a hiss of “ _ fuck you” _ and spat into his ugly face. As he stumbled backward, your arm was wrenched at an even more painful angle, causing you to cry out as the man behind you used his hold on you to force you to your knees. Sabretooth came forward once more to kick you in the stomach, causing you to double over with a pained wheeze. “Fucking bitch.” He snarled, wiping the saliva from his face.

The man who had the gun pressed to your back then had it mere inches from the back of your head. You didn’t need to feel it press to your skull in order to know that it was there, you could sense the weighted presence of it behind you. It was at that moment that it really set in how futile continuing to struggle was, especially when you were so outnumbered and unarmed. 

“Wasn’t planning on making a martyr tonight.” Sabretooth shrugged. “But desperate times, gentlemen. Do what you have to do.”

You took a deep breath, anticipating the inevitable end.

But it didn’t come. 

What did come was a grunt of the henchman behind you, as if someone had hit him, and then the gun was going off near your left ear. It sent you reeling, falling onto your side on the ground as your head rang painfully. 

You curled into the fetal position, your eyes squeezed shut and half convinced that you were already dead because you couldn’t see or hear anything around you. However, when you opened your eyes you were confronted with the view of a familiar red suit. 

Daredevil was taking down the thugs left and right, and in all of the confusion, you gathered your bearings the best that you could to get yourself out of harm’s way. You stood on shaky legs and managed to dash back behind the storage container you were hiding out behind before you were caught and grabbed a piece of rebar that you could use in self defense. 

The ringing in your ears didn’t cease, and neither did the pounding in your head, but you had started to be able to make out yelling and muffled gunshots. You were so scared and so out of your element that you felt as if you couldn’t breathe, and you gripped the piece of rebar in your hands like your life depended on it.

When you spotted a figure approaching from around the storage container, you raised the bar over your head, ready to swing at whatever thug came around the corner next, and as soon as you saw the figure round the corner, you swung down as hard as you could. However, your wrist was caught in a firm grip and the rebar was taken from your hands like it was nothing.

With a cry of anguish, you opened your eyes and were met with a pair of all-too-familiar brown eyes. 

“It’s me, sweetheart, it’s me. Take it easy.” Matt said, and you were barely able to make out the words with all of the noise in your head, but what you did hear made you collapse forward into his solid chest, tears rolling freely down your cheeks. 

“You’re ok, you’re ok.” He held you close, petting your hair as you cried into his chest. “Let’s get you out of here, the cops should be here any minute.” 

 

~

 

You were still shaking as you sat on the kitchen counter, watching as Matt carefully bandaged your scraped-up knees. The silence had been tense, broken only by your soft breathing and the sound of the traffic outside. 

He left briefly to put away the bandages and antiseptic he had used, and when he came back, he pulled at the hem of your shirt. “I saw him kick you. Take this off.” He demanded quietly, and you did as you were told, wincing as you lifted your arms up above your head. He let out a slow breath and a frown as he gently let his fingers skim over your abdomen, already hot with a bruise starting to form. “Jesus, Y/N.” He murmured, lightly putting pressure on each of your ribs to make sure that none were broken, and you winced. After concluding that nothing was broken, Matt helped you put on your shirt and then stood facing the counter, bracing his hands against it and hanging his head down. 

“Are you mad at me?” You asked quietly, gingerly hopping off of the counter and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Of course I’m not mad, I just…” He hung his head further and sighed. “That was way too close. What were you even thinking?” 

“I had to do  _ something _ , Matthew. You couldn’t take on a gang like that alone.”

In a split second, he had turned toward you and gripped your shoulders. “I’ve been doing it alone for  _ years _ , Y/N!” He said, his voice raised in the otherwise quiet space. “Tonight was way too close. You were seconds away from getting a bullet through the skull, and you call that  _ helping _ ?” 

“I was trying to call the police-”

“ _ I almost lost you _ !” He bellowed, and you flinched, but in his eyes, you saw no anger. You saw fear, desperation,  _ helplessness _ . It was the first time that you had ever seen sheer terror ever cross his features. “If I had been there a second later, I would’ve been too late, and you would’ve  _ died _ .” There were tears rolling down his cheeks now, and his calloused hands cupped your cheeks so you knew that he could feel the first ones fall from your eyes. “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much, but never try to do anything like that again. I can’t lose you, especially to all of the shit that I get involved in.”

“But I need someone to help you come home, Matt. I need to know that you have a safety net out there.”   
Matt gave a watery laugh, letting the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile. “Sweetheart,  _ you _ are my safety net.” He breathed. “You’ve always been. If anything goes wrong, the only thing I know is that I need to come home to you.  _ You bring me home every time _ .” 

You choked out a sob and surged forward to wrap him in a hug, and he returned it, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll always be there for you.” You promised. 

“I’m counting on it, sweetheart.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> check out my tumblr @darlingpeter! please feel free to leave feedback!! all is welcome!


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